


Without You I'd B Flat

by galixr



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Awkward Flirting, Bad Puns, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:59:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7645747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galixr/pseuds/galixr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler is on a collision course with the new hot trumpet player, literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You I'd B Flat

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by [goodtobealunatic](http://goodtobealunatic.tumblr.com/) on tumblr: Tenrose + When it rains/snows/storms
> 
> Or as I’d like to call this, “You definitely didn’t ask for a marching band AU but you’re gonna get one because I’m suffering through band camp hell.”
> 
> Also this is the most unrealistic retelling of band camp. The most romantic thing that’s happened so far was the one time my friend offered me fries and then came back with no fries.

“Oh my god, we have to play in that?” Rose asks. She fidgets with her flute and looks back at a trumpet player wearing the same forlorn expression as she.

“But it’s snowing out,” he protests as they both stare at the white flakes pelting down just outside the window.

“The director said so,” she whispered. “I heard him talking to Mr. Singer, told him we didn’t get enough sets on the field earlier.”

He lets out a sigh. “I’m gonna fall on my arse,” he mumbles.

Rose takes the opportunity to actually look at him. Her eyes graze over a long, angular  form with a cutting jawline and the most lovely brown eyes she’s ever seen. Wild locks of hair stuck up in every direction and she can’t help but think about how silky it would feel.

"I hope you fall on me," she thinks to herself.

“What?” he asks and with horror Rose realizes she had said that out loud.

“Alright everyone outside!” comes the call of their band director and she slips outside, her jacket still half on in attempt to escape the beautiful trumpet player.

-

An hour later, on the field Rose hears a half hearted promise that this was their last run through and rolls her eyes because she knows damn well it isn’t. She didn’t want to voice her complaint unlike the other flute players, only because she is directly behind nameless beautiful trumpet player. The view isn’t too bad as his bum was directly in front of her.

About a minute into their “final” run through, Rose feels her feet ready to give out. She’s soaked to the bone and snow keeps getting into her mouth every time she pauses in between playing. Her eyes wander to the the person beside her and suddenly she sees a tall, lanky mass about to crash into her.

Rose lets out a strangled cry. Beautiful trumpet player topples the both of them over, and that’s not too bad, until his trumpet whacks her directly in the face and she sees black.

-

Rose wakes up in the nurse office, blinking once and trying to sit herself upwards. The room immediately starts to spin.

She’s pelted with two or three different voices saying, “Slow down, take your time!” Her eyes come into focus and a pounding headache stings the back of her head. She can hear the blood rushing in her ears before her head is clear enough to keep herself upwards.

Her director sits on a chair with a frown on his face. The nurse is to the side is Rose, looking at her with great concern. Last but not least was the beautiful trumpet player, standing in front of her with eyebrows knitted together in worry.

“What happened?” Rose asks in a mumble, bringing her hand up to rub her head.

“This one,” her director answers, pointing to beautiful trumpet player, “marched backwards instead of forwards and plowed down a whole line of flutes.”

“W-who are you?” she stutters.

“John Noble, and I’m so sorry, Rose. I truly didn’t mean to-” the trumpet boy starts.

“It’s alright,” she murmurs, blush tinging her cheeks as she stares at him. John’s eyes burn in shame, running a free hand through his hair.

“You two get to go home,” the director says with a frown. “But tomorrow I expect you guys to be here bright and early like the rest of us.”

“You don’t have a concussion, Rose,” Nurse Jones explains. “That being said, I still recommend you stay off your feet for the rest of the day. Go home and rest.”

At that, the director jumps off of his chair and stomps out of the room.

-

Once Rose feels fine enough to walk, she’s back outside with John by her side. He awkwardly clears his throat before saying, “I can give you a lift if you want.” The snow flutters down on face, his nose red and eyes hopeful in the 4pm light.

“I can walk,” Rose responds half heartedly, hoping he’d insist.

“Rose, I don’t feel safe with you walking home after everything,” he says with worry.

“Oh, alright,” she agrees as he swings out a key ring and walks them into the parking lot.

Rose shivers, burrowing into her coat and staring up at John. He bounces with every step and he can’t stop smiling. A long, multi-colored scarf wraps around his neck while its edges flap in the winter wind. He’s babbling about some aspect of the show he doesn’t like while he waves his hands about.

They stop at a rusty looking blue Ford that could have came straight out of the 60’s.

“That’s your car?” she laughs, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yep,” John retorts, popping the “p”. “Problem?”

Rose brings her scarf over her mouth to mask the grin on her face.

He walks around the front to open the door for her like a proper gentleman. His ears are red with blush as he stares at her for a little bit too long.

John gets into the drivers’ seat and wait for her to admire his beautiful interior. Pale yellow leather and a modern dashboard emitting green light made Rose gasp in surprise.

“You still laughing,” he says smugly.

“No,” she breathes, “it’s a beautiful interior.”

John starts the car, shooting her a warm smile. The green light illuminates a smattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose. Rose feels her heart melting with every glance of those soft brown eyes. She wants to melt into his arms and listen to his nerdy babbling all day while twirling herself in his long scarf.

After a couple minutes of talking about their sets and parts they pull up to her flat. John helps her out, taking her flute case in one hand. The other twines with her own hand to aid her in getting up, but he doesn’t want to let go.

“Are you a fermata?” he bursts out. “Cause I want to hold you.” Blush covers his entire face as he gauges her reaction.

Rose doubles over in laughter as his sudden outburst. John joins in, nervously at first, until they’re both lost in a fit of giggles.

“Oh god,” he breathes, “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Me neither,” she chuckles.

Then they both stop, making intense eye contact through the snow. Rose tentatively walks up to him.

“Thanks,” she whispers, cheeks pink in the wind. “For driving me.” She leans up to him with the full intention of kissing his cheek. Instead, his lips meet hers in a chaste, yet lingering kiss. Her arms are thrown around his neck, eyes closed as she absorbed the taste of his lightly chapped lips.

John pulls away. His eyes are dazed, half lidded and filled with disbelief.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she mumbles, turning away to dance into her flat.

“Yep,” John whispers, “see you tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all reads, kudos, or comments are much appreciated!


End file.
